The Wrong And Fast Gloves

Whose gloves is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite angry though.
She was cross like a dark potato.
I watch her pace. I cry hello.

She gives her gloves a shake,
And screams I've made a bad mistake.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The gloves is wrong, fast and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
Tormented with nightmares she never sleeps.
Revenge is a promise a girl should keep.

She rises from her cursed bed,
With thoughts of violence in her head,
A flash of rage and she sees red.
Without a pause I turned and fled